Author: Narayan Tushar Kaudinya

A Diwali wish

Diwali is a festival of light, because each one of us is that light. For this is about our inner evolution and so we spread awareness to uplift the human spirit. Today as the world goes through a transition, it is all the more important and needed to create festivity around us, to rejoice in the wisdom and knowledge that our spirit is eternal and invincible. Invincible is what we must remember. Hence, on this day I wish that your each moment, each action, each cell brings light and joy that we always feel is our true right. A very happy Diwali to everyone, and especially you, my family here on this collective journey on the Road to Nara. : ँ : Cover Image : Nainsukh, women with lanterns and fireworks celebrating Diwali. ca 1760 – 1763. Guller, India. If today is the first time you have arrived on The Road to Nara, you are heartily welcome ~ Namaste And I will take this opportunity to introduce you to About me and importantly; As a Traveller, my lessons from …

A Brief History of Ancient Temples in India: The Secrets are in the conversation- ३

I had just arrived from visiting a temple in Uttarkashi with my Guruji in Uttarakhand. He is from the state and well versed in the ways of temple building and understanding the energy that a lingam or an idol holds. He wanted to meet an old friend of his and asked me to come along, just like that and we went. It was a day’s journey, quiet long. He did not enter the temple, not even once but asked me to be here at the complex till he comes back. I do not know how long it must have taken him to come back but there, in that sphere of Uttarkashi temple, this lingam as I entered just wrapped and bounded me to sit. It was bursting with energy. 3000 years old, and it is like it was done yesterday, exuberating with such intensity that you don’t want to do anything but just straighten your spine and sit. It was something I had never forgotten. And travelling to Uttarakhand last month brought back this memory …

Turiya and RamaKrishna: Who Are You?- ११

Nara commentates … First called is Svante, alittle five year old sannyas aspirant, and subodhi, his mother. Ramakrishna tells him to shut his eyes which he does, instantly, with full obedience, tight and very still, the little pouches strainingto do just right. His knees are held bytwo chubby-small intentful hands. We all lookwith breathless stillnesssurrounding an open rose as the little swami emerges, Love, Little Anando.  : ँ :Last seven days were work but nights kept leading me to the milk mountains. Full moon i.e the sharad purnima of October, kept revealing magic on one condition. That I must not close my eyes.  If I observe a graph of my inner self, it has been nothing less than hydrogen working its way towards the biggest star. Slowly but so intense, that being a writer becomes a curse because I cannot explain it.  : ँ : In Omkareshwar, a few years ago, on the banks of the river Narmada. A register found me; a life of a french yogi documented in images glued on its thin white pages. It was a real treat. Because they were not mere photographs, but codes, Sri Yantras, …

Welcome To Heaven: Stories From the Line Of Control that May Enlighten The World– VII. Final

On the Great Himalayan Road Journey to Baltistan, today is the showdown, the final journey continuing from Call of the Now- I Life and nothing more- II Road will tell you- III Remember me with a Lotus- IV The Gun Mountains and other Gods- V The Wait of Baltistan- VI : ँ : — It was more difficult to reach here than i had thought. To an extent I was only one night away from leaving it all and going back home. A whole day had gone in repairing Tyre and servicing this vehicle in Diskit, the same valley that hosted gypsies once, ancient travellers, porters coming from Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan carrying opium and other magic potions to the cold desert of Hunder; a stop that they still talk about as the Silk road. This was the ancient Silk route, and from here you either go up to Mongolia or find your way to the Tibetan plateau into China. I took to Baltistan. “And had Turtuk not pulled me in this one time, I may …

The Wait Of Baltistan: Remembering Love and Lessons While Teaching in the Border Village of Turtuk – VI

On the Great Himalayan Road Journey to Baltistan, the final journey continuing from Call of the Now- I Life and nothing more- II Road will tell you- III Remember me with a Lotus- IV The Gun Mountains and other Gods- V : ँ : As i sit to write this final chapter, many memories from my journey that I first took eleven years ago arrive. Vivid. Bringing a state of spiritual alertness. An all round high, more out of oxygen levels shelving by the night, at that height. Breathing deep. I wasn’t able to stop my popcorn like popping soul at the sight of the Himalayas. More so I felt young. Carrying freedom in my eyes as I was being taken care of for months and if I wanted to, for as long, to only teach. Incidents, accidents; new kind of trees, new crops, thin air, cold wind, white walls, narrow streets, mountain dogs, brick lanes, chants, monasteries, Tibetan flags; the mountain life; that air of newness like teenage romance, lived shortly. As a week …

Yogmaya – १

It was sudden. A day of change. Something shifted. Paradigm. Light. Its been months that I had known where to look yet It took time to find. Because it had already found me. It was in my hands and sooner I became it. In my search for the permanent, in this land which once was ruled by the snakes. Forest. In the name itself, energy resides. I reached Yogmaya. After months, without telling even my own self. The moment that child arrived I packed my bag, took my documents, opened the door and started walking towards her. As if she called on the eve of her birth night. It was five thousand and sixty eight hundred years ago. 5068.  From today starts Nine days of Worshipping the mother. How will you do it?I will take the help of Fire.    When she calls, the time subsides. Last evening, I was brimming with energy. I passed through the mausoleum and Mehrauli felt like a foreign country. It had been long I thought i was looking, rather …

Knowing Gandhi and Learning from many Mahatmas

Today is Lal Bahadur Shastri’s birthday. The second Prime Minister of India, who was rather killed/poisoned on his visit to Tashkent in 1966. He had gone to sign a peace deal organised by the US and the USSR seminaries, UN security members with Pakistan’s Military Leader Ayub Khan after the war of 1965. The deal was signed in the evening as the Peace Pact failed. The next morning, he was found dead in his room. For days, months and years that commenced and kept passing by; it was less strange, rather maddening that no one ever asked for an inquiry, no one protested, no body looked for proofs or questioned the circumstances of his death. Death of the head of a nation state was accepted as mere fate. He was a sincere and a firm leader. He did not shy away from going into war with Pakistan in 1965, that was pushed on him merely a year later he took office; and only three years later, after Nehru’s historical blunder when China opened fire and …

Truth, Evil and the Sun

When we reached Gopeshwar that night, Gana seemed speechless. But Neel looked at him with satisfaction giving an expression like then he has seen. We sat around fire, while waiting for the food to arrive. Open your ears said Neel and he began speaking like reciting an over practised hymn. The men in the east, he said, are trees; those in the south are flocks of animals; those in the west are wild plants. And those in the north like ourselves, who cried out while they ate other men, were the waters. When the collective sound started filling the air, he started explaining about eating. The act of eating is a violence that causes what is living, in its many forms, to disappear. Whether grass, plants, trees, animals or human beings, the process is the same. There is always a fire that devours and a substance that is devoured. This violence bringing misery and torment will one day be carried out by those who inflict it. Pouring milk into the fire- every morning, every evening- …